So spake the Sire; and cleared the ambient air, And hushed beyond its wont the heaving main.
To the third heaven her chaste soul made repair, And in Zerbino's arms was locked again.
On earth, with shame and sorrow for his share, That second Breuse sans pity did remain;
Who, when digested was the maddening bowl, Lamented sore his error, sad at soul.
